


The Trail Blazer, the Electric Razor

by SegaBarrett



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Death Threats, Dubious Consent, M/M, lardner, references to non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: Chris Keller has his work cut out for him at Lardner.
Relationships: Chris Keller/Vern Schillinger
Kudos: 4
Collections: Oz Magi





	The Trail Blazer, the Electric Razor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dustandroses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Oz, and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: Title is from "Back in NYC" by Genesis.

Chris Keller was pretty sure that he had been born bad. It hadn’t come as the result of some big trauma, no. In fact, he loved his life, and he loved his parents, in a sorta-kinda way, the kinda way that didn’t get discussed in Highlights magazine. Or maybe it was just closer to liking.

The kinda way that someone liked a bus that was on time, the kinda way that someone liked mild temperatures. 

There were other things that Chris felt a lot more passionate about. Bad things.

The kind of things he wouldn’t really want his parents to know about if he could help it. However, now the cat was out of the bag.

He’d finally pulled some shit and he had gotten caught for it. The slick, magic touch was faulty this time. 

He was only seventeen, and he thought he could get out of it if he put on his most charming smile and got himself into a cushy juvie where he could cry all the time about how he was really just a good kid who had taken a left hand turn because he hadn’t gotten enough love from mom and dad early on. 

Instead, the judge had looked at him and snarled and without a second glance had sent him to Lardner as his parents had burst into tears and pleaded “no”, before being led out, or maybe he was led out first. He hadn’t really been sleeping in holding as he turned over how he was going to get out of this one, in between wanting to shoot himself in the foot, because he had messed up and there was a lot that was coming to suck and coming straight for him. He had seen enough prison movies to know that nothing good happened in real, adult prison, not the summer camp that was juvie.

They had given him advice before he’d gotten out of holding, too – the young ones, especially, the ones who had knowing smirks as if they knew exactly what was coming for him. Assert dominance, prove you’re crazy, and, more than once with an accompanying smirk, “Don’t drop the soap.”

***

The colors of Lardner were beige and gray, kind of a depressing school spirit show if Keller did say so himself. Another pair of beige-and-gray slacks was balanced in his hands, and he tried to walk in like he owned the place already.

He let his hips swagger, as if to invite anyone to face off against him. He was willing to prove himself crazy; he was willing to prove himself a force to be reckoned with. 

Maybe this would even be a good thing; he could build a network.

“You’re in here,” the guard said, shoving him into a cell. A moment later, all his words about being dominant and unshakeable seemed to go out the window, because the other man in the cell was giving him a look that plainly indicated that he wanted to eat him.

“Hello,” the man said, and Keller looked him up and down. He had a bald head, and it was hard to tell exactly how old he was. He seemed to be bigger than he was.

Keller was terrified of him. 

(No, not quite. He was shaking, though.)

“Hello,” Keller echoed. He forced a smile on his face as he looked him up and down.

The man introduced himself as Vern Schillinger, and Keller learned quickly that there was nothing that ol’ Vern liked better than to talk about himself. Talk, talk, talk.

Oh, he was going to be easy.

Keller’s body shivered, unbidden, and he kept smirking. 

“I’ll wipe that smirk off your face,” Schillinger replied, “Or I’ll mail you the heads of your parents, kid.”

Keller found that he didn’t really care. His family seemed far away – they had been nice enough, of course, but no strong emotion flowed through him at the threat, or even the mental image that it brought up. They were there; he was here.

And so was Schillinger.

His smile didn’t fade.

“Listen, Vern,” he said, letting his hips sway. “Why don’t we leave the threats alone and you just let me know what it is I have to do.”

“You look like you might like a threat or two,” Schillinger growled back.

Keller took a step back, into the wall, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“Maybe I like to play it a little bit dangerous from time to time.”

“I like you, kid.” Schillinger stepped forward and slapped him on the back. “But I’ll like you even better when you’re on your back in my bunk letting me fuck that tight ass.”

Keller looked at him a long moment, crossing around the bunk and swaying his hips, shaking his ass.

“I think I’d like me better like that, too,” he said with a hum. He had never done this before. He had been with girls, of course, all of them pretty and prim and eager to play ball with a bad boy for a night and then never to talk to him again, but this was going to have to be completely different. He didn’t have a blueprint for this – and that was what was making his mouth water.

 _Maybe he’ll make me scream_ , Keller thought lazily, and he walked over to the bunk and laid on his back. _Vulnerable_.  
Schillinger’s weight weighed him down a second later, but to Keller’s surprise he felt something wet ( _nice and wet_ , he thought to himself with a hum) trailing up his shoulder and then over into his neck. He squirmed.

He opened his mouth and couldn’t find a word to say. Did Schillinger want him to say his name – and if so, which one? A name could tell a lot about a person, and if he was going to be spending a few years in this cell, he would have to figure out all the angles, even if that was on his back.

“I demand a few things,” Schillinger said, and a moment later Keller felt his hands close around his neck. He flopped against it, not having seen it coming. He had planned for any eventuality – why not this one?

_You got too cocky, Chris, and now you’re going to die._

His eyes fluttered, feeling lightheaded and giddy. He was going to die in here.

The thought filled him with a strange, bright ray of joy.

The air rushed in a second later, making his chest ache.

“What’s that?” he slurred. He wouldn’t take his eyes away from the older man. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

Schillinger dug his hands into Keller’s hips.

“Actually, one thing – unquestioning obedience.”

Keller held the air in his lungs and searched for that joy again, but it would remain elusive for a long, long time.


End file.
